


The Dress

by jackjack520



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Gen, Platonic Relationship, although it would be easy to read it as romantic, body image issues, insecure Skye | Daisy Johnson, post s1e14, post s1e3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2016-05-14
Packaged: 2018-06-08 08:28:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6847132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jackjack520/pseuds/jackjack520
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Where did that dress come from that Skye wore to Ian Quinn's party?<br/>Jemma helps Skye get ready for her first undercover mission, and discovers that the one thing Skye isn't confident in is her own appearance. Just a sweet, fluffy little two-shot between Jemma and Skye.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Girl's Night

**Author's Note:**

> Set during season 1 episode 3. I was introducing my sister to the show and she asked where I thought Skye's dress had come from, since she'd been living in a van and was unlikely to own party attire. Then during season 1 episode 15 she asked why Skye always seemed to have makeup on, even when it didn't make sense to be wearing it. Thus, this fic was born.

“This is what you packed?”  
Simmons was looking at two duffel bags, contents splayed across the floor and bed of Skye’s small bunk. Sweaters, tanks, ripped jeans, canvas shoes – nothing appropriate for a party at a billionaire’s mansion. Simmons noted that Skye hadn’t actually unpacked anything. The closet was empty, and she had obviously just been pulling things out of her bags as needed, and then leaving them on the floor. The dresser was covered in makeup, some of it open and leaving smudges on the surface of the wood. Simmons nudged a pile of clothing with her food and tried to tamp down her itch to tidy the place up.  
Skye shrugged. “It’s everything I had in the van.” She picked up a shirt and smoothed it, folding it haphazardly and laying it on the bed. Skye smiled, but Simmons cringed and silently cursed herself for speaking without thinking. Of course Skye didn’t have a dress. She hardly had anything.  
“You’ll wear one of mine.” Simmons said warmly, wrapping a hand around Skye’s wrist and tugging her into the hall.  
“I don’t think we’re the same size,” Skye responded. You’re built like a model, she thought, or a ballerina. I’m more like an over-developed twelve-year-old.  
Simmons shook her head. “Nonsense. We’re close enough. I’m sure I’ve got something that will work.” She led Skye down the hall to her own bunk, sliding the door open to reveal a spotless room.  
“Whoa,” Skye breathed. Simmons had spread a handmade quilt over the bed. An extra lamp had been placed on the dresser to brighten up the dim space. It was cozy and clean and Skye felt like an imposter just stepping into Simmons’ perfect world. Simmons patted the bed, indicating Skye should sit. She did, and Simmons opened her closet and began rifling through its contents.  
“Ah, here’s something,” she said, pulling a delicate, cream colored slip dress from the rack.  
Skye bit her lip. “I don’t think so,” she said apologetically. “Slip dresses don’t really work on me.”  
Simmons nodded and put the dress back. She pushed a couple more hangars to the side and then pulled out another. A dark blue, structured dress that looked like it had been tailored to fit Simmons perfectly. Skye’s breath stuck in her throat just thinking about trying to fit into it. What if the zipper stuck halfway up, and she had to stand there, half-naked and embarrassed in front of Simmons?   
Skye shook her head and looked at the floor. “I doubt I could squeeze into it.” She threw a smile at Simmons, as if she was joking, and hoped she’d let it go.  
Simmons just shrugged and put the dress back. She had noticed how nervous Skye became when she started pulling dresses from the closet. They really weren’t that different in size, and yet Skye was acting like there was no way she would fit in Simmons’ clothes. She frowned to herself and started looking for something with a little stretch, something that would be forgiving and that might make Skye a little more comfortable.  
”Aha!” Simmons exclaimed, pulling something from the back corner of the closet. A fuchsia colored A-line dress someone had gifted her a while back. It wasn’t really her color and so she’d hardly worn it, but the bright pink seemed perfect for Skye’s complexion. It hung loose on the hangar and Simmons hoped she could talk Skye into trying it on.  
“This would look amazing on you.” Simmons declared, holding it up against Skye’s body. “Let’s try it on, shall we?”  
Skye bit her lip again, and tentatively reached out to pinch the fabric between thumb and finger. She let out a little sigh and then nodded. “I guess we can try.”  
She made Simmons turn around while she put the dress on. Simmons rolled her eyes but did as requested. “Okay,” Skye said, after a moment. “You can turn around.”  
Simmons turned to see Skye looking down at the dress on herself, still pinching the skirt between her fingers and worrying at her lip with her teeth. Simmons sucked in a breath, surprised at just how good the dress really looked on Skye. “I knew it,” she said with a grin. “I knew you’d look amazing.”  
Skye looked up with an embarrassed smile. She gave the dress an experimental twirl and responded, “It really isn’t bad, is it?” Simmons just smiled and nodded in agreement.   
“Right,” Skye said, letting out a breath. “Now I just need to worry about hair and makeup.”  
“I can help you with that, too,” Simmons responded. “It’ll be fun – like getting ready for a date.”  
They walked back to Skye’s bunk, and Skye began shuffling things around on top of her dresser, pulling out tubes of lipstick and bottles of foundation. “You have far more makeup than I do,” Simmons commented. “I hardly ever have a reason to really bother looking nice.”  
Skye shrugged. “I like makeup,” she said. “I don’t like people to see me without it, really.” She cringed, thinking that probably sounded a bit pathetic. But Simmons just nodded sympathetically. Simmons did wonder, however, if Skye’s self-esteem didn’t need a bit of work.  
“You always look really nice,” Simmons said gently. Not as nice as you, Skye thought.   
“Here,” Simmons said, taking the makeup Skye had pulled from the pile. “May I?” Skye shrugged again, and sat on the bed. Simmons knelt in front of her and began applying products to Skye’s face. “You have such lovely skin,” Simmons commented in a quiet voice. Skye smiled. It felt nice, having Simmons here, letting her help her pick a dress and do her makeup.   
Simmons set down the brush she had been using to dust setting powder over Skye’s cheeks. “There we are.” She held up a small mirror for Skye. “Absolutely gorgeous.”  
Skye tried not to blush at the compliment. “Thanks for your help,” she said, standing to return the makeup to the dresser top.   
“Any time,” Simmons responded. “You look so nice in that dress, I really think you should keep it.”  
“Really?” Skye looked over in surprise. “You really don’t have to, I’d be glad to give it back.”  
Simmons nodded. “It looks much better on you than me.”  
Skye smiled. “Thanks,” she said. Simmons just smiled and excused herself, saying she needed to get back to the lab before the mission began.   
Skye looked around the small bunk, taking in the chaos she had created in her short time on the bus, and the empty closet that spoke of temporary arrangements and uncertain futures. She smoothed Simmons’ dress – her dress – and then picked up a shirt from the floor. She hung it carefully in the closet and thought, if she was going to be here for a while, she may as well act like it.


	2. "I must look terrible."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skye has been given GH-325 and is recovering from her injuries. Upon waking, she's feeling insecure and exposed. Jemma tries to help her see that her appearance isn't something she needs to worry about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place between season 1 episode 14 and episode 15.

Simmons stood in the open doorway of the med pod, watching Skye’s chest rise and fall with her breath. She was alive, her injuries healing at an exponential rate. Simmons guessed she’d probably wake soon. She sighed deeply, letting relief finally wash over her, the knot in her stomach unclenching as she fully realized that yes, Skye would be okay.  
They had grown closer over the past few weeks, Simmons mused, as she puttered around Skye’s bed, checking vitals, making notes, tidying away medical equipment. Skye was easily her closest female friend, possibly the closest she’d ever had. She had watched Skye grow more confident as she provided assistance on missions and trained with Ward. Simmons thought she might have even seen Skye head to the gym without any makeup a couple of times – something she knew made Skye anxious. But every punch Skye threw and jab she dodged seemed to put a bigger smile on her face, and chip away at her insecurities.   
Looking at her friend’s clean, pale face now, Simmons wondered how Skye would feel upon waking. She knew worrying about how she looked would probably seem petty and ridiculous to anyone else, but for all of Skye’s bravado and recklessness, her appearance was one topic that she couldn’t seem to joke about. Simmons furrowed her brow, wondering if Skye would feel too exposed, too vulnerable, lying here in the med pod where anyone could see her in this state. She wished for the hundredth time that she could somehow impress upon Skye how much the team already cared for her, how free of judgment they were when it came to silly things like how she looked. She’s gorgeous anyway, Simmons thought. She’d have nothing to worry about even if we did care about such things.   
Skye stirred, pulling Simmons away from her thoughts. Skye’s eyes fluttered open as Simmons gently brushed the hair from her friend’s face, smiling down at her. “Simmons?” Skye croaked, and then coughed. She winced, hissing in a breath. “What happened?”  
“You were shot,” Simmons said gently, fetching a glass of water and dropping a straw in it before holding it up to Skye’s mouth for her to sip. “Try not to move too much. Are you in pain?”  
Skye nodded, and Simmons pressed a couple of buttons, causing a strong dose of painkillers to flood through Skye’s IV into her bloodstream. “That should help in a moment,” Simmons said. Then she picked up her phone and texted Coulson to let him know Skye was awake. “Coulson is on his way down,” she told Skye.  
Skye nodded, looking pleased, but then doubt washed over her. She chewed her lip and looked away before saying “I look like a mess, don’t I.” She smirked up at Simmons, trying to appear like she didn’t really care.  
Simmons sighed. “No, Skye, you look like you were shot and are recovering.”   
“Ah, so more like death warmed over, then,” Skye joked. Simmons just smiled and shook her head. She knew she wasn’t going to win this argument, but she wasn’t ready to give up either.  
“You look a bit pale,” Simmons said in a serious but gentle tone, “but honestly, you look more like an angel than a mess.”  
Skye rolled her eyes. “That’s the dorkiest thing you’ve ever said,” she told Simmons, but she could feel herself blushing. Simmons was too nice to her, she thought. Too nice to even admit when she looked terrible. “Can I have a mirror?”  
Simmons paused, frowning at Skye, looking for a moment like she was deep in thought. She seemed to make a silent decision before announcing, “No.”  
Skye looked at her with surprise. “No? Why not?”  
“Because what you look like is so monumentally unimportant right now that I can’t bring myself to indulge your insecurities.” Simmons said firmly. She knew she was pressing her luck, and she hoped Skye would understand what she was doing. She placed her hand gently on Skye’s arm, smiling the slightest bit. “You’re alive, Skye. You can’t know how relieved we all are to still have you here with us.” Her voice grew quieter. “I was so scared, Skye.” She looked away, suddenly a bit embarrassed.  
Skye placed a hand over Simmons’ squeezing slightly. “Hey,” she said. “You’re right. I’m still here. I’m pretty relieved myself,” she joked, and Simmons smiled back at her.  
Coulson arrived just then, and began explaining to Skye all that had happened, about finding her, rushing her to a medical facility, discovering that the “miracle drug” was the only way to save her. It took a while to catch her up on how he had died and been brought back, and how they had given her GH-325 to save her. Skye’s eyes grew wider and wider as the story progressed, her appearance obviously forgotten as the magnitude of all that had happened hit her. Coulson stayed for a while, just chatting with Skye. Simmons excused herself when she saw the vulnerable look in Coulson’s eyes, knowing he’d want a moment alone with Skye. He had sat by her bedside for hours when she was still unconscious, and she knew he was as relieved as she was that Skye was okay – possibly even more relieved than her.  
She’s getting better, Simmons thought as she headed back to the lab. And not just physically. She smiled to herself, hoping that eventually, Skye would see that she was truly loved.


End file.
